


The Reckoning

by rusty_armour



Category: Robin of Sherwood
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Supernatural Elements, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusty_armour/pseuds/rusty_armour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman's thirst for vengeance could prove deadly when she unleashes a terrible curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reckoning

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written for one RoS zine that didn't get off the ground and then submitted to a second one that didn't pan out either.
> 
> © 2004

The slender rope would twist into a loop, its frayed end diving through the ring, before the circle would close. It was a perpetual process. Knot after knot was forming. The row seemed endless. Then filthy fingers were gripping the rope tightly.

There was a woman's voice, soft and indistinct, at first, then loud and powerful:

_ I curse those tainted with the murderer's blood,  
A poison that flows like a river in flood.  
May sickness and fever take flight,  
And the knots that bind beget darkness, not light. _

The grimy fingers stroked the coarse fibers of the rope. A blackened fingernail snaked across one of the knots. The woman was laughing. She hurled the rope and sent it flying into a deep, dark pit. The rope transformed into the figure of a man, who thrashed and clawed at the air as he plunged into the void.

Marion's eyes flew open and she jerked awake with a startled cry. Sitting up on her mattress, she surveyed her surroundings. Four solid, grey walls met her gaze. Marion didn't know if she should be relieved or even further distressed by the knowledge. She was safe, protected, yet so isolated, so far away. She had never regretted leaving Sherwood more than she did today.

Marion threw back the bedclothes with trembling hands. Had it been a vision or simply a nightmare? She wouldn't know until she reached Sherwood. She had to find the man who had been falling. She had to find Robin.

  


* * * * 

  
"I think Robin was right. I think they'll go down the Trent," John said to Will and Tuck.

"Shut up," Scarlet hissed. He pulled out his dagger for the fourth time that morning and wiped the blade with a shiny, green leaf.

They were lying in some bushes by the Nottingham road, waiting for the Earl of Derby to make an appearance. It was rumoured that the earl had agreed to support King John's latest campaign against Llewellyn. The outlaws had decided that they could find a better use for the money. However, what they hadn't been able to decide was how the money would be delivered to Nottingham.

Robin had believed that the earl would transport the money via the Trent, while Will stubbornly insisted that the nobleman would choose the road through Sherwood. In the end, the outlaws had been forced to split up and cover both routes.

"I still say he won't send the money through Sherwood," John argued, scratching his beard lazily. "He'll have been warned about us. He'll choose another way."

"And you think that's down the Trent," Tuck said. He sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. "It's a lot of money. If I were donating money to the king's coffers, I certainly wouldn't travel through Sherwood."

"If you were giving money to the king, you wouldn't be travelling nowhere," Will said, flashing his dagger under Tuck's nose.

The monk yawned and rolled onto his back. "Tell me when they get here, Will."

Scarlet scowled. "If you two thought 'e'd choose the Trent then why didn't you go with Robin and the others?"

"Because we'd have to work, then," John said with a grin.

"And walk," Tuck added.

"I wouldn't get too comfortable if I were you," Will said, jabbing the sleepy monk in the ribs. "You'll 'ave to walk soon enough, I reckon."

Tuck closed his eyes and ignored Will. It was John who suddenly seemed to stir.

"I just thought of something," John said. "What if the money's not going down the Trent at all? What if the earl's men took the Newark road?"

Scarlet picked up a branch and smacked John soundly with it. When he turned his attention back to Tuck, his friend raised his hands placatingly. Will dropped the branch.

"Why the Trent?" he demanded.

"Robin had one of his dreams, Will," Tuck said.

Scarlet's forehead creased. "'E saw the Trent?"

"Uh…no. He saw a long, twisting river. He didn't know what it was until he saw Gisburne."

"Gisburne?" Will cried.

John clamped a hand over his mouth. "Shh! Keep your voice down, lad."

"Why? I thought nobody was coming this way," Will said sarcastically.

"We said that we didn't think the earl's men would be coming through Sherwood," Tuck said, correcting Scarlet. "That doesn't mean no one else will."

Scarlet looked away in embarrassment for an instant before remembering what they had been discussing in the first place.

"Gisburne?" he repeated.

"Aye, Gisburne," Tuck said.

Will stared at him expectantly. "So?"

"Remember when Gisburne stole the Cross of Saint Ciricus?" Tuck asked.

"Don't remind me," Will growled.

"Well, I'm going to have to if you want to hear about Robin's dream," Tuck said. "Now, as I'm sure you'll remember, Gisburne tried to escape down the Trent."

"Yeah? So?"

Tuck lifted his gaze towards heaven, as if seeking extra guidance.

"It's a sign, Will," John said.

Will shook his head. "No, it's 'ogwash. So Gisburne went down the Trent. Maybe 'e's been down the Derwent too. It could 'ave been 'is bathwater for all we know!"

John swatted a fly that was buzzing around his head. "I don't know. Robin's usually right about these things."

"Then maybe 'e's wrong for once."

"I doubt it," Tuck muttered. Then he blinked in surprise when he saw Will tense and tilt his head to one side.

"Oh, yeah?" Will said eagerly. "Then what's that I 'ear?"

"Tuck's stomach," John joked.

"No, you daft fool, it's horses!" Tuck whispered. He sat up and John quickly followed suit.

"You see? I told you," Will said, unable to hide his smug grin.

"Well, don't just sit there, lad!" John hissed. "Grab the other end of the rope!"

In his excitement, Will had nearly forgotten the remaining details of their plan. He ran across the road and slipped into the bushes on the other side. This had originally been Tuck's responsibility, but Tuck had wandered back to his friends when he had grown tired of waiting. Will cursed under his breath as he searched for the end of the rope in the undergrowth. He had just managed to grab it when the soldiers appeared.

The outlaws barely breathed as they waited for the wagon. They watched anxiously as the first two soldiers approached. Fortunately, neither man had noticed the rope concealed under a thin layer of earth. Four, then six, more soldiers rode past. There was still no sign of the wagon, but the outlaws knew it was coming.

They had just spotted a nobleman, replete with an ornate robe and large velvet hat. Soldiers were flanking him on both sides. When the nobleman and his escorts reached the rope, Will gave the signal.

"Now!" he cried.

The rope flew up into the air, knocking the three men from their horses. One soldier was on his feet in an instant. He pulled his sword from its scabbard as John emerged from the bushes with his quarterstaff. John blocked the soldier's thrust then wrenched the sword from his hand. The soldier froze and John delivered a blow to his head. The second soldier took to his heels and burst through the trees. Will let him escape; he was pursuing bigger quarry.

The nobleman was crawling to his horse when Scarlet stepped into his path. Will seized the nobleman by the front of his immaculate robe and hauled him off the ground. Will noticed that the man was tall, but he was unable to see his face. The wide-brimmed hat was obscuring most of his features. Will decided that he must be very ugly.

"Who might you be?" he asked in an amused tone. "You wouldn't 'appen to be the Earl of Derby by any chance, would you?"

The nobleman gave no answer.

"Where is it?" Scarlet demanded, his voice taking on a harder edge. "Talk or I'll kill you."

The nobleman shook his head, and Will reached for his sword.

"Will!" John called. He and Tuck had chased the rest of the soldiers away and found the wagon.

Scarlet dragged the nobleman towards his friends. "Sooner or later, you'll talk," Will said as John and Tuck began to rummage through the wagon. "And the longer you wait, the angrier I'm going to get." Will rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, but the nobleman still wouldn't say a word.

It wasn't long before Tuck found a chest hidden beneath a pile of blankets. John heaved the chest from the wagon with a grunt of exertion.

"Well, it looks like we won't need your 'elp after all," Will said, though he didn't release the hilt of his sword.

"A key might be nice," John suggested.

"Ah, what do you need a key for?" Will said. "Just put your back into it."

Tuck silently handed his sword to John, and the stronger man tried the smash the lock. It took several attempts, but John finally managed to break it. The lock opened with a satisfying click, and Tuck reached inside. His fingers immediately made contact with an object that was hard and cool to the touch. He lifted it out of the chest slowly, though he didn't really need his eyes to confirm what it was.

"Well, let's see it, then," John said.

Tuck held up the stone so only John could see it. "The chest's full of them," he whispered.

John's eyes widened. "You mean, there's no…"

Tuck nodded gravely.

"By Saint Thomas," John gasped. "Will's not going to be happy when he sees this."

"No, he won't."

The two men were silent for a moment. Then Tuck clutched John's arm excitedly.

"John, remember when we stole Mildred de Bracy's dowry from Notttingham Castle?"

"Aye, what of it?" John asked.

"When we opened the chest, all we found were – "

"Oi, what are you two whispering about?" Will demanded. He had been so distracted by his prisoner, that he hadn't noticed his friends's suspicious behaviour at first. "Are you   
planning to keep all the money for yourselves?"

John's lips twitched, and Tuck hoisted himself to his feet. He was careful to hide the offending object – the stone – behind his back. He debated whether there was a way to soften the blow, to deliver the news without Will losing his temper.

"Will…that isn't the Earl of Derby," Tuck said when he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"What?" Scarlet roared. The man beside him started to laugh quietly. Will ripped off the velvet hat and took in the blond hair, blue eyes and unmistakable smirk. Then his fist flew out, and Guy of Gisburne was sitting in the middle of the road.

"It was worth getting captured just to see the looks on your miserable faces when your brilliant plan failed," Gisburne said snidely.

Will glared down at the knight in hatred. "Take a good long look, Gisburne, because it's the last thing you're ever going to see!" he hissed.

"Will!" John cried. Scarlet tried to lunge at his enemy, but John had a tight grip on him.

"I'm going to kill 'im!" Will screamed. "Let me kill 'im!"

"No, we'll take him back to the camp and wait for Robin to return," Tuck said calmly. "He can decide what we'll do with Gisburne."

"But Robin won't kill 'im!" Will moaned in dismay. He broke away from John, and Tuck wondered if Will was going to attack Gisburne again. However, Scarlet managed to restrain himself. He only rested his sword against Gisburne's throat as he tugged his enemy to his feet. Gisburne was almost off them again when he swayed unsteadily for an instant. John grabbed Gisburne's arm when he thought the knight might fall.

"You must have hit him harder than you thought, lad," John joked.

Will pressed his sword a little closer to Gisburne's throat. "I wish I 'ad, John," he grumbled. "I really wish I 'ad."

  


* * * * 

  
When Robin returned to the camp with Much and Nasir, he was expecting to be greeted by Scarlet's jeers and laughter. He was surprised when his friend seemed to have trouble meeting his eyes instead.

"Where is it, then?" Will asked quietly.

Robin stared at Will in disbelief. "You mean, you haven't got it?" he asked, though the answer was obvious.

"Well, of course I ain't got it!" Will snapped. "I wouldn't 'ave asked you if I 'ad!"

Tuck dropped the jerkin he had been mending, and John woke from his nap.

"What's going on?" John murmured sleepily.

"Robin wants to know if we got the money," Will said distractedly. John and Tuck smiled, waiting for Will to absorb the information. When Will did catch on, his face lit up and he leapt to his feet. "I was right!" he cried triumphantly. "I told you, didn't I?"

Robin sighed and walked away, while Will laughed and danced around Much. The younger man shook his head and joined his leader by the fire.

"Robin, if we haven't got it, and they haven't got it, then where is it?" Much asked.

"Good question, Much," Robin said. He glanced at Scarlet. "Will?"

Will stopped dancing. "What? Oh…uh…"

"Why don't you show Robin your prisoner?" John said, another smile tugging at his lips.

"Prisoner?" Robin's head whipped around. Then he spotted the man tied to a tree at the edge of the camp. The prisoner had been left standing, though his head was bowed. If it hadn't been for the blond hair, Robin might not have recognized him.

"Gisburne?" he asked, as if doubting his own eyes. "He was so quiet, I didn't even notice him! Did you gag him?"

"No, though we've barely heard a peep from him since we returned to the camp," Tuck admitted.

"Maybe it's the Earl of Derby after all," John said.

"What?" Robin asked.

"When we captured Gisburne, he was disguised as the Earl of Derby, or some such noble," Tuck explained. The monk then told Robin about that morning's adventure.

"It sounds like something the Sheriff cooked up," Robin said once Tuck had finished his tale, "though I would have thought that even Gisburne would have refused to participate in that plan." He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Have you questioned him yet?"

Tuck shot a warning look at Will. "No, we thought we'd better leave that to you," he said. Robin frowned thoughtfully and rose to his feet.

As he headed towards the tree, Robin wondered if Gisburne had either fallen asleep or was making a concerted effort to ignore his enemies. Captivity might have made another man despondent, but this was Gisburne. Surely, he would never accept defeat or despair. And, yet, Gisburne still hadn't acknowledged his enemy's presence.

"Gisburne," Robin said. He waited for the knight's cold glare, but there was no response.

"Gisburne," he repeated, raising his voice.

This time the knight did lift his head, and Robin was shocked by what he saw. Gisburne's face was very pale, and the eyes that stared back at Robin seemed dazed and unfocused. "Wolfshead?" he croaked, and his head rolled onto his chest. Robin reached for Albion and immediately began to cut Gisburne free.

"What are you doing?" Will shouted, running to Robin's side.

"He's sick, Will," Robin said.

"Sick? 'E's not sick!" Will scoffed. Robin ignored him and continued to work on the ropes. Will grabbed his arm. "It's a trick! 'E's just pretending!"

"Is he? Well, he's doing an excellent job." Robin pulled his arm free, and concentrated on the task at hand. He saw John and Tuck approach the tree from the corner of his eye and wondered if they wished to judge Gisburne's condition for themselves.

"But he can't be sick," John said. "There was nought wrong with him when we brought him here."

Tuck raised Gisburne's head by the chin. "He's sick, John. Look at his face."

John gaped at Gisburne, taking an involuntary step forward. "By Saint Thomas! I've seen corpses that look better than this! Cut him free!"

"You must be joking!" Scarlet cried.

"He's sick, Will!" Robin, John and Tuck said in unison.

"So? Why do we care? 'E's our enemy! 'E should be dead!"

"Aye, lad, but not when he's like this," John said. "Face him when he's got a sword in his hand and a fighting chance."

"There, that should do it," Robin said, cutting the last of Gisburne's bonds.

"I'm telling you, 'e's fine!" Scarlet yelled.

"I'm fine," Gisburne stated. He took a few steps away from the tree.

Will pointed at the knight wildly. "There! See! I told you, didn't I? If 'e was that sick, 'e wouldn't be able to walk, would 'e?"

"You're right, Will," John said. Then he brushed past his friend and caught Gisburne before the knight pitched forward onto his face.

"'E's pretending. 'E 'as to be," Will insisted. However, there was a note of uncertainty in his voice.

"Feel his head," Robin suggested, as John lowered Gisburne to the ground.

Will grimaced. "I don't want to."

"Oh, come on, Will," Tuck said. "You'll never prove us wrong unless you do."

"All right, then," Will said, though he didn't sound very enthusiastic about the prospect. He knelt down beside his enemy and slowly extended his hand. "'E's burning up!" Will exclaimed, yanking his hand away as if Gisburne really was on fire.

"Much, fetch some blankets," Robin ordered. "Nasir – " He turned his head to find the Saracen standing beside him.

"It doesn't look good," Nasir said.

  


* * * * 

  
"There are no wounds," Nasir said. They had moved Gisburne closer to the fire, and Tuck was covering him with blankets.

"Are you sure?" Robin asked. The Saracen raised an eyebrow, and Robin let the subject rest.

"If he isn't wounded then it must be an illness of some kind," Tuck said, mopping the knight's brow with a cold wet cloth.

Much stared at the knight with wide eyes. He was biting his bottom lip nervously. "Do you think it's catching?" He and Will exchanged glances and stepped back a few paces. Robin, on the other hand, moved closer.

"Did he show any signs of sickness when you ambushed him?" Robin asked.

"None that I could see," Tuck said. "Of course, he did wobble a bit when Will punched him…"

Robin shot Scarlet a look that might have been translated as: _You hit a sick man?_

"'E was fine!" Will shouted.

"Fine," Gisburne murmured, before starting to shiver.

"Right! That time 'e did it on purpose!"

"Will!" Tuck scolded.

"Ah…"

Tuck sighed in frustration. "He needs a physician."

"A physician!" Will exclaimed in outrage. "'E's our enemy! 'E's supposed to die!"

"Isn't there that woman in Elsdon?" John asked, choosing to ignore Will's comment.

"Who? Jennet?" Will laughed. "She 'ates Gisburne!"

"No, you daft fool, the other one," Tuck said. "Oh, what's her name?"

Robin's brow creased. "Elsdon's a bit far, isn't it?"

"I don't believe it," Will mumbled, shaking his head.

"If I left now, I might be back by nightfall," John said.

"If you're that concerned why don't you just return 'im to the castle?" Will asked sarcastically.

"Don't be silly, lad," John said. "He's our prisoner."

"Besides, he's in no fit state to travel," Tuck added.

Will threw up his hands. "That's it! I've 'ad enough of you lot! I'm going on watch!" he shouted, storming out of the camp.

John scratched his beard thoughtfully. "What's the matter with him?"

  


* * * * 

  
Will crashed through Sherwood, paying little heed to the leaves that rustled as he swatted branches from his face or the twigs that snapped loudly under his feet. If the others could have seen him, they would have been appalled. Will grinned and started to stomp on the forest floor with relish.

He knew he was making enough noise to attract the attention of at least a dozen soldiers, but he didn't care. If they wanted to arrest him, they were welcome to try. He was in the mood for a good fight.

"Ahh!" Will spun around as a hand fell on his shoulder. He was reaching for his sword, when he recognized his attacker. "Marion?" he gasped.

"Hello, Will."

Scarlet stared at Marion for an instant before he found himself moving towards her and folding her in his arms. She returned the embrace eagerly, only releasing him when he began to back away awkwardly.

"Is it true?" he asked. "Are you really a nun?"

Marion gazed down at her grey robes, unconsciously smoothing a crease in her habit as she did so.

"Well, I'm still a novice, actually," she said. Will looked at her blankly, and Marion smiled. "Yes, Will, I'm a nun."

"Oh, uh…Are you 'appy?"

"Yes, I'm happy most of the time, but I didn't come here to speak of that. I came here because…because…" Marion trailed off, closing her eyes.

"What's the matter?" Will asked in concern.

Marion grasped Scarlet's sleeve anxiously. "Oh, Will, is Robin sick?" she cried.

Will's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Robin? No, Robin's all right," he said. Then he gritted his teeth. "I almost wish 'e wasn't," he grumbled. "No, it's Gisburne that's sick."

Marion frowned in confusion. "Gisburne? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, 'e's back at the camp. Looks like 'e might die…if we're lucky."

"He was wounded?"

Will made another face. "No, we don't know what it is."

"I see."

Will didn't like the tone of Marion's voice. "You're not going to go look at 'im, are you?" he demanded.

"Well, I think I should, Will," Marion said.

Scarlet nodded grimly. "Well, I guess I'd better take you there." He started to walk away, but Marion laid a hand on his arm.

"It's all right. I'll find it," she said.

"It's no trouble, Marion. I – "

"You seemed rather cross just now. Perhaps you should calm down before you return to the camp. Why don't you go on watch?"

"That's what I was going to do," Will said sheepishly.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it, Will, because if a nun can sneak up on you, I'd hate to see what some soldiers might do," Marion said with a smile.

Will laughed out loud. "I've missed you, Marion."

Marion took his hand and squeezed it. "I've missed you too."

  


* * * * 

  
Robin crouched down beside Tuck. The monk was still patiently mopping their enemy's brow.

"How is he?" Robin asked.

"Still the same," Tuck said. "No better, no worse."

Robin studied the knight. Gisburne appeared to be sleeping. His eyes were shut and the only visible movement was the steady rise and fall of his chest. Robin didn't like it.

"What is this, Tuck?"

Tuck shook his head. "Maybe an illness has been spreading through the castle."

"Maybe."

"What are we going to do?" Tuck asked.

Good question, Robin thought. "I don't know," he admitted. "If it were up to Will, we'd leave him to die."

"Aye, but it's not up to Will, is it?" Tuck said gently. "To Will he's just an enemy, but I'm afraid it's a lot more complicated for you."

Robin grimaced. "Well, if I can't kill him, I suppose I can't leave him to die either."

"It looks like you have your answer, then," Tuck said. Robin nodded, patted Tuck on the back, and then rose to his feet. He was heading over to John to ask him about that woman in Elsdon, when the sound of a birdcall filtered into the camp.

John raised an eyebrow. "Scarlet?"

"No, it was too close," Nasir said. "Will was too angry to return this quickly."

John crossed his arms over his broad chest. "But if it isn't Will who could it be?"

Suddenly Robin felt a flutter of joy in his heart. "Marion," he whispered.

"Hello, everyone." Marion walked into the camp, and Robin's happiness died. She was still wearing a nun's habit. She had only returned to visit, not stay.

  


* * * * 

  
"Marion!" Much leapt up from the fire and, grinning boyishly, he threw his arms around her. She laughed and placed a maternal hand on his cheek.

The other outlaws slowly emerged from their collective daze. Tuck approached her first, smiling shyly. Marion wrapped her arms around him.

"We've missed you, Little Flower," Tuck said.

"Aye, that we have, lass." John was now standing beside them. He hugged Marion, kissing the top of her head despite the wimple.

Nasir stepped forward next. "Salaam aleikum."

Marion smiled and took both his hands. "Aleikum es-salaam," she said, returning his greeting. Then she looked at Robin. He hadn't moved at all.

"It's good to see you, Robin."

"Welcome to Sherwood, my lady," he said coldly. Marion's smile instantly vanished, and Robin's eyes flew to the ground.

"Robin!" Tuck protested.

"Right," John said. He walked over to his leader and took him firmly by the arm. "Look, we all know you're happy to see her, so there's no point in hiding it." He shoved Robin towards Marion, who was now blushing. They both stood there uncomfortably. Robin was too ashamed to meet Marion's eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said at last. "I don't know why I said that."

"Perhaps you wished to hurt me," Marion said quietly.

Robin shook his head. "No…no, never that."

"Robin…" He still wouldn't look at her. She placed a finger under his chin, and Robin slowly lifted his eyes. "I'm sorry too," she said. Robin engulfed her in his arms, pulling her close. Marion shut her eyes and held him tightly. She could deny it all she wanted, but she _had_ missed him.

"How are you, Robin?" she asked when they had finally pulled apart. "Are you well?"

"I'm well," he answered. Then his gaze wandered away, as if her question had reminded him of another subject. Marion followed his eyes and saw Gisburne. Will had been right: the knight didn't look good at all.

Marion knelt down beside Tuck, who had returned to his patient. "Will said Gisburne was sick and you didn't know why."

"Maybe you can help us," Tuck said, though he knew he had no need to ask. Marion had already placed a hand on Gisburne's forehead.

"I'll try to bring his fever down. I'll need hot water."

"There's already some on the fire," Tuck said. Marion looked at him quizzically. "I was going to prepare a febrifuge," he explained, "but I've forgotten which herbs to use…"

Marion smiled and removed a small pouch from her belt. She pulled at the drawstrings and reached inside, producing a sprig of flowers that resembled daisies.

"Feverfew, of course!" Tuck exclaimed. "How could I have forgotten?"

"Crush the flowers, leaves and stem in a cup then pour in some hot water and stir," Marion said. "It will need to cool before I give it to him."

Tuck took the feverfew and rose to prepare the infusion. Marion wiped Gisburne's face and forehead with the cloth Tuck had left in a bowl beside her. He was very pale and his hair was damp with sweat. Marion loosened his collar and he stirred.

"Gisburne, can you hear me?" Marion asked.

The knight's eyes opened slowly and he stared at Marion for several seconds before he seemed to recognize her. Then he attempted to sit up, but Marion held him down.

"Were you wounded?"

"Wounded?" Gisburne said in confusion. "No…"

"You weren't hurt in any way at all?" Marion asked.

"That animal hit me," Gisburne answered after a long pause.

"Animal?"

"Scathlock." Gisburne scowled, though the effort was weak.

"Ah, why aren't I surprised?" Marion exchanged an amused glance with Robin, who shrugged innocently. "Gisburne, what did you eat today?"

Once again there was a long pause before Gisburne spoke. "Bread…wine…" he said.

"Did anything taste strange?" Marion asked. Gisburne was closing his eyes. She shook his shoulder lightly and the eyes flew open. "Does your stomach hurt?" Marion persisted. "Do you think you've been poisoned?"

"No…don't think so…cold."

"All right," Marion said as Gisburne sank into the depths of sleep.

When the drink cooled, Marion debated whether it would be better to let Gisburne rest, but decided that she really needed to bring his fever down. As if anticipating her request, Robin draped an arm around Gisburne's shoulders and pulled the knight into a sitting position. Blue eyes stared at Robin hazily, before Marion placed the cup against Gisburne's lips.

"Drink," she said, nudging his mouth with the brim when his lips refused to part. She managed to pour a mouthful down his throat before he began to cough.

"No," he gasped, once he could speak. However, Marion was determined. When the coughing fit had passed, she made him drink some more. Then his eyes closed and his head rolled back against Robin's arm. He had only swallowed about a third of the febrifuge, but it would have to do.

Robin set Gisburne back on the ground and looked at Marion. "Do you have any idea what this could be?"

She shook her head. "He isn't wounded, so it must be an illness of some kind." Marion remembered her dream and bit her lip anxiously.

"What is it?" Robin asked, noticing the sudden change in Marion's expression.

Marion instantly lowered her eyes. "It's nothing. Forget it."

"Marion," Robin said, his tone a little sharper.

Marion blushed. "It's almost as if…as if someone cursed him."

Robin's brow furrowed, and John started to laugh.

"It's about time," John joked. "I'm surprised no one thought of it sooner. Tuck frowned in disapproval, but Nasir and Much made no attempt to hide their grins. Robin continued to study Marion. She still wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Marion, why did you come here?" Robin asked.

"Why, to see all of you, of course," she said.

"No, the truth, Marion. Why did you really come?" Robin placed a hand on her shoulder. "What did you see? Did you know that Gisburne would fall ill? Is that why you were carrying feverfew?"

"She thought it would be you." Will had entered the camp and was walking towards the pair. "She asked me if you were sick before I even 'ad a chance to tell 'er about Gisburne. Isn't that right, Marion?"

"Yes, that's right," Marion whispered. She raised her head. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

Robin stroked her cheek gently. "What did you see, Marion?"

"There was a woman – a witch. It looked like she was casting a spell. She said, 'I curse those tainted with the murderer's blood'."

"The 'murderer's blood'?" Tuck said nervously.

Marion nodded. "She said she would bring sickness and fever upon them and cast them into darkness. Then I saw you falling, Robin. No, you weren't falling. She _threw_ you into darkness." Marion shivered as if she were suddenly cold, and Robin drew her close.

"Are you sure it wasn't Gisburne you saw?" Robin asked. "He has fair hair and isn't much older than me."

"It wasn't Gisburne," came the muffled reply. "It was you."

"But if it's Robin she saw then why is Gisburne sick?" Much asked, voicing everyone's question.

Marion lifted her head from Robin's chest, and gazed at him steadily. "I could never mistake Gisburne for you."

Robin smiled faintly. "I almost wish you had."

"What?" John and Tuck cried in unison.

Robin pressed a palm against his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut.

Marion clutched his arm in concern. "Robin?"

"I was hoping you'd be wrong," Robin said. Then he swooned and landed at Marion's feet.

  


* * * * 

  
Robin returned to his senses slowly. He could hear voices. They had been distant and muted at first, but they were louder and clearer now. He blinked his eyes open, squinting at the bright glare of the setting sun.

"This is how it started with Gisburne," he heard Tuck say.

John's voice followed. "It'll be fever next. Fever if he's got the same thing as Gisburne."

"Well, of course 'e 'as!"

Robin winced. There was no mistaking Will.

"Robin," Marion said. Robin tilted his head back and found Marion looking down at him. That was when he realized his head was in her lap. He was about to sit up, when he felt Marion stroking the hair back from his forehead. After that Robin decided that it would be best to remain where he was.

A laugh rumbled quietly from John's chest when he saw that Robin was awake, but in no hurry to leave his place of rest. He nudged Tuck and gestured towards their leader. "I reckon that at least one of us is going to die happy, wouldn't you say?"

Tuck's lips twitched for a moment before he grew sober again. "This is serious, John. We've got to figure out what to do."

John sighed and nodded. "Aye, I know." He gaze travelled from Robin to Gisburne. The knight was now firmly in the grip of his fever. His pale face was bathed in sweat and his head was twisting from side to side. John knelt down beside the knight and ran a cloth over the fevered brow. Gisburne muttered something, and John just managed to catch the word.

"What'd 'e say?" Will demanded. He strode quickly across the camp to stand beside Gisburne's supine form.

John glanced at Will with a confused expression. "He said…" John paused, stared at Gisburne, and shook his head. "He said 'pigs'."

"'Pigs'?" Will asked in disbelief. "'_Pigs_'?"

"Will – " Tuck began.

"That ungrateful _bastard!_" Will spat. "We try to 'elp 'im and 'e insults us!" His hands clenched into fists and he glared at Gisburne.

"He's delirious, Will. He doesn't know what he's saying," Marion said patiently.

"Maybe he's hungry," Much suggested.

"Hungry?" Will cried.

Tuck grinned. "You know, pigs-pork."

Will scowled and took a step towards Tuck. The monk gulped and backed away.

Robin struggled to rise from the ground. "Will," he said.

Scarlet whirled around. "This is your fault! You brought this on yourself!" he yelled, pointing a stubby finger at Robin. "This never would 'ave 'appened if you 'ad killed Gisburne!" Will kicked a stone angrily. "And now whatever 'e's got is spreading! You've got it and you're going to die! We're _all_ going to die!"

"Will!" Marion said sharply.

Robin managed to sit up. He was about to speak when he head a faint rustle just beyond the camp. He glanced quickly at his friends and was alarmed to discover that no one was missing.

"Uh…who's on watch?" he asked. His friends exchanged startled glances and immediately drew their weapons. Robin raised a hand to indicate that they should remain quiet and still. Scarlet shook his head and bit back a curse, but obeyed his leader all the same.

A twig snapped loudly, and everyone in the camp tensed. Then a face was peering anxiously at the outlaws from behind a tree. Robin recognized the man at once: he was one of this father's messengers.

"You can come out, Godfrey," Robin said. "No one will harm you."

"You know this man?" Tuck asked. He was gripping his quarterstaff tightly in his hands.

"This is Godfrey," Robin explained. "He works for my father."

The young man had emerged cautiously from his hiding place and was walking towards them. Godfrey smiled when he saw Robin, looking visibly relieved. He was just as Robin remembered him, with his freckled skin and large hazel eyes. His dark hair fell just above chin level, a style that seemed to be in favour at the moment.

"My lord, I was afraid I'd never find you!" Godfrey said.

"How did you find me?" Robin asked. He was amazed that Godfrey had had enough courage to travel through Sherwood alone. He never would have thought that Godfrey would be able to track down their camp. There were few men who could.

"It wasn't easy, my lord. At least, not at first." Godfrey crouched down in front of the outlaw. He had noticed that Robin wasn't standing and wasn't accustomed to looking down at a nobleman when he was addressing him. "I was lost, my lord," Godfrey admitted. "Hopelessly lost. I was forced to leave my horse behind and travel on foot. That was when I heard a voice."

"A voice?" Robin said in amusement.

"Yes, my lord. It was a loud voice. I could hear it shouting. It led me here."

Robin's gaze drifted to Scarlet. Will squirmed uneasily and stared down at his feet. When Robin looked back at Godfrey, he saw the messenger lick his lips nervously.

"What is it?" Robin asked.

Now Godfrey bit his bottom lip and looked as uncomfortable as Will. "My lord, although I am truly happy to see you again, I wish I could have postponed our meeting until I could deliver better tidings." He heaved a heavy sigh. "I have not failed to notice that you are unwell, which makes this task all the more difficult."

There was a sickening tremor in Robin's stomach that had nothing to do with his illness. "What's happened, Godfrey? Is it my father?"

Godfrey nodded but it was a long time before he could speak again. It was almost as if he were unable to find the words or the will to impart the news. Then he cleared his throat and managed to finish the task.

"My lord," he said hoarsely. "Your father is gravely ill. He had grown weak and was suffering from a fever when I left Huntingdon. The physicians could find no cause for the earl's illness. They…they seem to fear the worst."

"What?" Robin gasped. He immediately struggled to his feet, despite Marion's protests. Godfrey stood as well, grasping Robin's arm when the outlaw's quivering legs threatened to give out.

"I must go to my father at once," Robin said.

"Robin, you're in no condition to travel," Marion cried. She leapt up and placed a hand on Robin's shoulder.

"She's right, lad," John said. "You can't help your father if you're sick yourself."

"You can't help your father if you don't know what you're facing," Tuck added.

Robin rubbed his face wearily. "You think my father has the same illness?"

Tuck shrugged. "What are the chances that you and your father should fall ill at the same time when you're both so many miles apart? Then there's Gisburne…" Tuck clamped his mouth shut, realizing, too late, that he had said too much.

"What about Gisburne?" Will demanded.

Robin glared at Tuck, who blushed and looked away.

"Gisburne?" Godfrey asked in confusion.

Will jerked his head at the knight, who had gone unnoticed by the messenger until now. Robin stumbled slightly as Godfrey suddenly released his arm and walked towards Gisburne.

"I know this man," Godfrey said, staring down at the knight.

Robin was surprised that Godfrey knew Gisburne, or that he would, in fact, be able to recognize him in his current condition. The knight was still delirious and thrashing weakly. His face was chalky and covered in sweat. It was so pale that his blond hair almost appeared dark in comparison.

"I know this man," Godfrey repeated. "He arrested your father."

"So 'e's arrested me before and you don't hear me moaning about it," Will said.

Godfrey ignored Will, his gaze fixed on Robin. "I thought Gisburne was your enemy. Why are you helping him?"

Robin closed his eyes for an instant as he was hit by a brief wave of dizziness. Marion wrapped an arm around his waist, and John moved quickly towards them.

"I'm all right," Robin said, though he allowed Marion and John to lower him to the ground. Marion laid a hand on Robin's forehead and frowned.

"I can't believe it," Godfrey said. "How is this possible?" He turned to Tuck. "The earl and his son have had no contact with each other. How can they both be suffering from the same illness?"

Tuck shook his head. "I wish I knew."

"As do I," Godfrey said with a sigh. His eyes flicked back to Robin. "My lord, I'm very sorry. I wish I knew how to help you. However, I fear that I can do nothing. It would be best if I returned to Huntingdon. They may need me back at the castle. Your father…" Godfrey trailed off, staring pensively at the ground.

"You've just had a long journey, and it will soon be nightfall," Tuck said. "You should stay with us for the night and rest."

"You are most kind, brother, but my place right now should be back at Huntingdon."

Robin shifted position. "If you really wish to serve my father, you'd stay," he said. "If we find a cure for this illness, I may need you to deliver it to him."

"A cure?" Godfrey raised his eyebrows. "Forgive me, my lord, but I don't see any physicians."

Robin looked at Marion and smiled sadly. "I don't think any physician will have the cure."

  


* * * * 

  
There were times when Tuck almost regretted his calling. This was certainly one of those times.

Surely the years he had spent in his abbey's library and scriborium should have equipped him with some knowledge, but he had no answers to give. He couldn't even give his friends spiritual guidance because he was lost himself. He knew they wouldn't have accepted his words of solace. He had already made a half-hearted attempt to comfort Marion, but she had been too absorbed in her own misery to listen.

Robin was now delirious. He had been hit by fever, and, even though night had fallen, Tuck could still see the ghastly pale cast of Robin's face in the firelight. Despite Marion's best efforts to brush Robin's hair off his forehead, long flaxen tendrils still clung to his cheeks and neck. When he had started to shiver, John had covered him in blankets, only to have his friend throw them off when his body burned again.

Although Tuck hated to see Robin suffer, he feared the alternative more. Gisburne had slipped into unconsciousness and was drifting closer to death with every hour. He was too still to be merely sleeping. With his grey, haggard complexion, the knight resembled a corpse more than a living breathing man. If they didn't find a cure soon, Robin would reach this stage as well.

Tuck gazed about him helplessly, as if hoping the solution might lie somewhere in the camp. Marion sat diligently at Robin's side, pressing a cloth to his fevered brow. Much and Nasir were sitting by the fire, staring into the flames glumly. John was leaning heavily on his staff, and Godfrey was hunched against the same tree they had bound Gisburne to earlier. Will was the only one who couldn't keep still. He was pacing continuously, striding from one end of the camp to the other. When he caught Tuck watching him, he stopped pacing.

"'Ave you thought of anything yet?" he snapped.

Tuck lowered his eyes. "No, I'm sorry, Will."

Scarlet muttered a curse and resumed his restless pacing.

"We should go to Herne," John said. "He'd know what to do."

Will crossed his arms but kept moving. "What good will 'e do? 'E's been useless so far."

"Maybe Herne doesn't know Robin's sick," Much said from his place by the fire.

Will laughed quietly, shaking his head. "'Erne sees things before they 'appen. 'E knows Robin's sick."

"Then why doesn't he do something?" John asked, the frustration evident in his voice.

"Maybe 'e doesn't want to 'elp. Maybe 'e wants Robin to die," Will said.

Marion looked up sharply, her cheeks flushing. "How can you say that?" she cried angrily.

Will's eyes flashed. "You of all people should know that, Marion. 'E left your 'usband to die, didn't 'e?"

A shocked silence descended on the camp. Then Marion was on her feet.

"That isn't what happened and you know it, Will!" she shouted.

Tuck walked over to Marion and placed a hand on her back. He could feel her trembling and couldn't tell if she shook from rage, fear, or a mixture of both emotions. He glared at Scarlet.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Will Scathlock," Tuck said, managing to keep his voice calm in spite of his own anger. "Why would Herne want his son – _sons_ – to die? He's saved all of our lives at one point or another." Tuck cast a quick glance at his leader. "When Robin – _this_ Robin – was shot in the leg by that poisoned arrow, Herne came to the camp to cure him."

"Then where is 'e now?" Will exclaimed. "If 'e's planning to cure 'im then why 'asn't 'e come? Why won't 'e 'elp us?"

Marion slipped out from underneath Tuck's arm and stood directly in front of Scarlet. "He _has_ helped us, Will."

"What?" Will stared at Marion blankly.

"He guided us through Marion's vision," Tuck explained.

Will's eyes narrowed. "You mean that dream of yours?" he asked Marion. "The one with the witch, the curse, and the 'murderer's blood'? What good is that supposed to do?"

"Maybe that's what we're meant to find out," John said.

"Yeah? Well, you're welcome to it," Will grumbled. "All it's given me so far is an 'eadache." Shaking his head, Will walked around Marion and flung himself before the fire.

What did the dream mean? Tuck had been pondering that very question since Marion had first told them about it, and its significance continued to elude him. His mind kept returning to the _murderer's blood._

He knew that Robin, the earl and Gisburne all shared the same blood, but who was the murderer? Was it Gisburne? He did seem like the most likely suspect. He had killed before and not just in battle. Had Gisburne killed someone close to this woman? If she wanted revenge on Gisburne then why was she causing Robin and his father to suffer as well? Did she hate Gisburne so much that she wished to kill everyone who shared the same blood?

"Robin, hush. You need to rest."

Tuck looked at Marion. She was kneeling beside Robin, trying to soothe him. Robin had grown agitated. His arms were flailing and he was muttering in his delirium. As Marion mopped his brow yet again, she bent forward to try to hear what he was saying. That was when her eyes widened and she froze.

"What is it, lass?" John asked. He dropped his staff and went to her at once. However, even when the remaining outlaws had gathered around her, Marion's eyes stayed on Robin.

"He said the same thing as Gisburne," Marion stated, sounding stunned.

"What do you mean?" Tuck said, sitting down beside her.

She turned her head towards Tuck slowly. "He said the word 'pigs'."

"What?"

Will couldn't help grinning. "Normans," he said.

"It isn't funny, Will," Marion snapped. "It must mean something if they both said it."

"Yeah, it means they both like pork," Will joked.

"Or it could be a clue to their illness and who might have caused it," Tuck said, regarding Will with a serious frown.

"So you still believe they were cursed," Will said, rolling his eyes.

Tuck didn't even blink. "Yes, I do believe that," he answered.

"But what could pigs have to do with it?" Much asked.

John laid a hand on Much's head. "That's what we've got to figure out, lad." He looked at Tuck to receive confirmation, and the monk nodded.

"Maybe they both ate pork that was poisoned," Much said after taking a moment to consider the problem.

Tuck smiled despite the gravity of the situation. "No, Much. Robin hasn't eaten any pork for a long time. And for Gisburne to have become ill, he would have had to share a meal with Robin and his father."

"And we all know that hasn't happened," John muttered.

"Exactly," Tuck said.

Will groaned. "This is worse than chasing that mad woman's pigs – and 'er pigs were real, not a load of 'ogwash."

John laughed at Will's pun. "Hogwash!" he said. "I like that!"

Will bowed his head graciously at John. Then he looked at the rest of his friends to see if they had appreciated the joke. Much and Nasir were smiling, but Marion and Tuck were both staring at him with open mouths.

"What?" Will asked nervously.

Marion and Tuck broke out of their trances, though they still seemed dazed. Marion leaned towards the monk, and Will was surprised to see an excited gleam in her eyes.

"Do you think it could be her, Tuck?" she said. "Mad Mab?"

"Well, she was accused of witchcraft," Tuck said.

"But the charges were false. Robin's uncle made them up."

Tuck tilted his head thoughtfully. "The charges may have been false, but what if Edgar was right about the rest of it and Mab really was – is – a witch?"

"You think Mad Mab did it?" Will blurted out. "If you believe that, you're madder than she is!"

"It would explain the pigs," Tuck said, as if he hadn't heard Will's outburst.

"And the state of the woman's hands," Marion added.

"But Mab's mad!" Will exclaimed.

"Maybe that's why she did it," Tuck argued. "Can you think of any other reason why she would do such a thing?"

"_If_ she did it," Will said, sounding skeptical. "I'm still not sure if Robin was cursed in the first place."

"Do you have any better ideas?" John asked.

Will opened his mouth, paused, closed it again, and shook his head.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" John said. "Let's go." He looked at Marion, expecting her to rise to her feet immediately, but she didn't move. "Marion?"

"What if Will's right and it isn't Mab?" Marion fixed her gaze on Robin, and her fingers curled around his limp hand. "What if my dream doesn't mean anything?"

John and Tuck glared at Will. He shuffled his feet and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Will," Tuck said sternly.

Scarlet nodded and knelt down in front of the young woman. "Look, what do I know?" he said to Marion. "You and Tuck are the ones with all the brains." He smiled, hoping to provoke a similar reaction in Marion. "Come on, finding Mab is better than sitting around 'ere on our bums, isn't it?"

Marion bit her lip, clearly torn. "I should stay with Robin."

"I'll stay with him," Tuck said. "You'll do more good if you go find Mab."

"But what if it isn't Mab?" Marion asked. "We'll be wasting time."

"Lass, you can do nought for him here," John said. He bent over and picked up his staff. "Besides, we have nothing else to go on."

Will stood and held out his hand. "Come on, Marion."

Marion hesitated for a moment then reached out and took it, allowing Will to pull her from the ground.

  


* * * * 

  
It had still been night when they had passed through a slumbering Wickham, but now the sun was beginning its ascent. Its gold and crimson light was visible through the trees, as they crept along the path to Mad Mab's hovel.

Mab's dwelling hadn't changed since the last time they had seen it. It still had its wattle and daub walls and, of course, the pigpen. However, in the faint light of dawn, the hovel almost seemed sinister. It was eerily silent and not even the grunts and squeals of pigs could be heard.

The outlaws approached the doorway cautiously, prepared to either draw back or draw their weapons at the first sign of danger. But the darkened hut appeared to be empty.

"Mab," Marion called. There was no answer. Only the faint smell of smoke from a dying fire indicated that Mab had been there recently.

"Maybe she slipped outside," Much said. He had walked across the hut and was looking through a hole in the back wall. "There are some bushes out here. She could be hiding." Much squeezed through the hole before anyone could stop him and went to search the bushes.

"Much!" Marion cried. Nasir instantly went through the hole after Much, and the rest of the group rushed out the door. Fortunately, when Marion reached the back of the hut with Will and John, she found Much and Nasir standing calmly by the bushes, completely unharmed. Marion sighed in relief. "Much."

"She isn't hiding," Much announced cheerfully. "She mustn't be here."

Marion forced a smile. "You could be right." She turned to look at the sun rising steadily behind them. "Nasir, is there enough light to track her?"

Nasir squinted first at the sun and then the ground. "I think so," he said. Then he disappeared to the front of the hut to put his woodcraft to good use. The others walked over to the pigpen and gazed down at the swine. All of the pigs were sleeping except for the largest one, Ethel, who had started rooting around the pen restlessly, as if impatient for her breakfast.

"Mab must be coming back," John said. "She wouldn't leave her pigs."

Will snorted. "Where else would she go? It's not as if anybody else would 'ave 'er. The smell alone would drive most people away."

"Will – " Marion began, preparing to defend Mab despite their suspicions about her.

"Where's Rutterkin?" Much asked, interrupting. His friends quickly scanned the pen, noticing for the first time that the little black pig was missing.

"He's right," John said. "Rutterkin's gone.

Will shrugged and scratched his head. "'E must 'ave run off. Can't say I blame 'im. I wouldn't want to live with a mad woman, especially if she were a witch!"

"I don't know," John said. "I reckon she knows how to take care of her pigs well enough." He looked inside the pen for a moment then frowned. "Well, except for that one in the far corner. The little bugger looks miserable."

Will craned his neck and located the pig in question. It was thinner than the other animals and instead of sleeping it just lay there despondently, its dull eyes staring at nothing.

"I've seen sheep look like that when they've been dying," John said.

"Do you think its sick?" Much asked anxiously.

"Sick or in pain," John answered.

"Could you cure it?"

"What?" John's head swung around sharply. "Much, I was a shepherd, not a swineherd."

"You cured that one sheep in Hathersage," Much argued. "The one that hurt its leg."

John closed his eyes and groaned. "Much, it had a pebble lodged in one of its hooves. All I did was pull it out."

Much's brows drew together. "But that's what I said. That you'd cured it."

Will grinned and patted Much on the back. "That's right. John cured it." The former shepherd shot Will a dirty look, but Will only laughed. Then his attention shifted when he saw Nasir walking towards them. "What did you find, Naz?" he asked.

"There are tracks leading into the forest," Nasir said. "It looks like those of a woman and…" Nasir flicked his eyes at the pigpen in disgust.

"Then Rutterkin did escape," John said.

"Rutterkin's missing," Marion explained when she saw the confused expression on Nasir's face. "Mab must have gone after him."

"Which means she could come back at any time if she's found 'im," Will said.

Marion nodded. "I'm going to look around Mab's hut before she returns. John, you should see if you can do anything for Cedric."

John stared at Marion blankly. "Cedric?"

"It's the name of the sick pig. I think we should try to help him if we can."

"But, Marion – "

"Just take a look at him," Marion said. "You've handled pigs before. You won't hurt him."

"It's not him I'm worried about," John grumbled. But Marion was already heading for Mab's hut.

As it was now daylight, Marion could see the contents of the hut properly. When she stepped through the door, her eyes latched onto an iron cooking pot. In her dreams it had been a full-sized cauldron, but Marion could see nothing else in the hovel that resembled such an object. If Mab wasn't the culprit then who was?

Marion was about to turn back to the door, when more sunlight streamed into the hut and fell on the pot. A strand of fiber clinging to its brim caught her eye. Marion grabbed the pot at once and reached inside. When her fingers closed around the first lumpy knot, the pot fell from her hands and crashed to the ground.

She stared at the rope in disbelief. It was the same rope from her vision. She touched one of the knots and an image flashed in her mind. She saw the grimy hands clutching the rope. Then the woman's voice was inside her head.

_I curse those tainted with the murderer's blood,  
A poison that flows like a river in flood.  
May sickness and fever take flight,  
And the knots that bind beget darkness, not light. _

Eyes still fastened on the rope, Marion tried to decipher the meaning of the words and any clues they might provide. She was concentrating so intensely, that she didn't know she had company until a hand landed on her shoulder. Marion jumped and spun around.

A woman with filthy matted hair and layers of tattered rags had emerged through the hole in the back of the hut. Mab.

Marion jumped again when she felt something brush against her skirts. A black pig rushed past her and out the front door. Marion expected Mab to go after Rutterkin, but she remained rooted to the spot.

"You shouldn't be here," Mab said.

  


* * * * 

  
Mab's hands were on her hips and she wasn't about to back down. That was fine with Marion. If Mab was looking for a fight, she'd give her one. She lifted the rope and dangled it in front of Mab. "Why did you do it?" Marion asked.

Mab's eyes widened. "Where did you get that?" She tried to grab the rope, but Marion pulled it out of reach. "It's mine!" Mab cried. "Give it back!"

"Why did you do it?" Marion repeated.

Mab tried to snatch the rope again, but Marion kept it hidden behind her back. For an instant, Mab's eyes were full of rage, and Marion nearly stepped back in fear. Then the anger faded, and Mab's eyes reflected sorrow instead. Marion nearly returned the rope, wishing to ease Mab's pain, but then she remembered that Robin was suffering more and she toughened her resolve.

"Tell me, Mab," she said coldly.

Mab crossed her arms and glared sullenly at the opposite wall of the hut. She started muttering quietly to herself, and Marion had to listen closely to catch the words.

"He did it," Mab whispered. "I know he did it. The one who took Rutterkin, the one who killed my husband. He's made Cedric sick. He wants all my babies to die."

Marion gasped and instinctively reached out to touch Mab's arm. "He killed your husband?"

Mab didn't answer – just continued to stare at the wall.

"I don't know why Cedric's sick, but Edgar couldn't have caused it," Marion said gently. "Edgar is dead."

Mab shook her head. "He isn't dead. Not while they live."

"They…?"

"The ones with the murderer's blood," Mab stated solemnly.

_I curse those tainted with the murderer's blood,  
A poison that flows like a river in flood. _

Marion's fingers curled tightly around the rope. Robin had been cursed for sins his uncle had committed. Both he and his father were suffering simply because they shared the same blood as Edgar.

"No, wait," Marion said. "That can't be right. Gisburne's sick too." She was about to question Mab on that point when a high-pitched squeal erupted from outside the hut.

"Cedric!" Mab cried. She pushed past Marion and bolted out the door. Threading the rope through her belt, Marion followed closely on Mab's heels, fearing what the woman might do to her friends. However, when Marion reached the pigpen, it was all she could do to stop herself from laughing.

Will and Much, plastered in mud from head to toe, were trying to hold down a struggling Cedric. They had managed to pin the pig on its side, but literally had to sprawl across the animal to prevent it from escaping. Meanwhile, a grimacing Nasir was straddling Cedric's neck and had grabbed the pig by the snout. John was spread out on his stomach, facing Cedric. He was holding some string in his hand and was obviously determined to get inside the pig's mouth.

"Stop it!" Mab shouted. "Leave him be!"

"It's all right, Mab. They're just trying to help Cedric," Marion said, trying to stifle her giggles. Unfortunately, Mab couldn't see the humour in the situation. Before Marion realized what was happening, Mab had pulled out a scrying glass from somewhere on her ragged person. With a look of pure loathing, she raised the glass and focused intently, only to have Marion seize it from her hands.

Howling in protest, Mab flew at Marion, knocking the younger woman to the ground. However, before Mab could take back her prize, Marion flung the crystal as far as she could, sending it into some bushes. Mab shrieked, but instead of attacking Marion, she charged towards the pigpen.

Nasir had finally managed to pry open Cedric's jaws, and John was sticking a hand inside the pig's mouth. Cedric continued to struggle furiously against his captors, his enraged squeals a testament to his outrage. But Cedric's emotional turmoil paled in comparison to that of his mistress.

When Mab hurled herself at John, the outlaw felt as if he had been struck by the Furies themselves. The air was knocked out of him as he was slammed into the ground. He was still wheezing when Mab tried to claw at his face. However, his friends were quick enough to rescue him and keep the woman at bay. Between the three of them, Will, Nasir and Much were able to subdue Mab. John was just sitting up when Marion knelt by his side.

"Are you all right?" Marion asked.

Gasping for breath, John nodded. Marion studied him skeptically, but held her tongue. She was about to assist John to his feet, when she spotted something embedded in the mud. Curious, she plucked it from the ground. It was the same piece of string John had been holding earlier, but there was now a small pointed object attached to one end.

"By Saint Thomas," John said hoarsely. "It worked."

  


* * * * 

  
The outlaws stood outside the pigpen watching Cedric eagerly consume his breakfast. Mab had settled down in the mud with her pig, crooning softly to him and scratching his ears. Marion smiled at the sight. She was glad to see that Cedric had recovered from his ailment. Marion had discovered the truth when she had taken a closer look at the object she had found in the pigpen. However, she didn't have the heart to tell Much when he started to share the story with her.

"John reckoned that Cedric had a toothache and that he looked sick because he hadn't been eating, so John pulled the tooth out," Much said, gesturing towards Cedric excitedly.

"It had begun to rot," John added. "I had found some string and thought I could tie it around the tooth and pull it out." John shook his head ruefully. "I had just looped the string around the tooth when Mab attacked me."

Much grinned. "And that's when the tooth came out."

Marion's lips twitched. "I see. Well, Cedric seems to be much better now."

"Yeah, but is 'e going to stay that way?" Will said.

Marion glanced at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Will glared at the woman sitting in the pigpen. "Did she curse Robin? 'Cause if she did, that pig's bacon."

Marion crossed her arms and raised her chin. "Leave Mab and Cedric alone, Will."

"Did she do it?" Will demanded.

"Yes, she did it, but she had her reasons."

"'Er reasons!" Will shouted. "She wanted to kill Robin!"

"She was confused and frightened, Will. Cedric was sick and she thought he could die."

"Why are you defending 'er? Do you want Robin dead?"

Marion didn't flinch despite the sting of Scarlet's words. "Robin's uncle killed Mab's husband."

"What?" Will gasped. His anger was momentarily forgotten. The other outlaws seemed equally stunned by the news.

"Are you sure?" Will asked. "I mean, she's mad. 'Ow do you know she's not making it up?"

"She isn't making it up, Will. I've lost a husband too. I could see that she wasn't lying."

Will fell silent, crossing his arms over his chest. Marion knew that Will understood. He had lost his wife, Elana, and he was still haunted by her death.

"I told Mab that Edgar's dead and that he couldn't hurt her or her pigs," Marion said, "but she said it didn't matter because those with the 'murderer's blood' still live." Marion paused for a moment, studying her hands. "She cursed Robin because she hated and feared his uncle. When she thought Cedric was sick, she decided to attack her enemy or, at least, those who shared his blood."

Will's hands curled into fists. "If Robin's bleedin' uncle wasn't dead, I'd kill 'im," he growled.

"Well, he is dead," Marion said, "and he doesn't matter – not anymore. What _does_ matter is breaking this spell."

"How do you reckon we do that?" John asked.

Pulling the rope free from her belt, Marion looked hard at the series of knots Mab had tied along its length. Then the final two lines of the riddle flooded into her head.

_May sickness and fever take flight,  
And the knots that bind beget darkness, not light. _

Marion's eyes widened. Could that truly be the answer? Could it possibly be that simple?

"Marion, what is it?" Will asked, sounding concerned.

_ And the knots that bind beget darkness, not light. _

Marion raised her eyes from the rope and smiled. "I think I've found the cure."

  


* * * * 

  
They had been in good spirits for most of the journey, but as they drew close to the camp the outlaws began to grow anxious about what they would find when they reached it. And, so, when Tuck rose quickly from the fire, they didn't know what to think. Then they saw Tuck's smile and the excited glint in his eyes and knew that all was well.

"I don't know how you did it," Tuck said, clasping Marion's hands, "but Robin's fever is gone. I think he's going to recover."

Marion planted a kiss on Tuck's cheek and moved to Robin's side. Blushing, Tuck watched as Marion rested a palm against Robin's forehead and her shoulders slumped in relief. Robin was sleeping peacefully.

Tuck turned to face his other friends. "How did you do it?" he asked. He was surprised when John produced a length of rope and placed it in his hands. "I don't understand," Tuck said. "How could this have helped you?" Then his eyes grew large with fear. "You…you didn't hurt Mab, did you?"

John laughed and slapped Tuck on the back, almost knocking him off his feet. "No, lad, we didn't kill her," John said in amusement. "Marion just broke the spell."

"She used the rope to break the spell?"

"No, the rope _was_ the spell."

"What?" The baffled monk looked beseechingly at Marion, who was rolling her eyes at John.

"Mab used it when she cast her spell," Marion said. "The magic was bound by the knots she tied in the rope. When I untied the knots, the spell was broken."

"By heaven," Tuck gasped in amazement. "I can't believe it. All this trouble over some knots in a rope."

John cocked an eyebrow at him. "What were you expecting? Fire and brimstone?"

"Well, given some of our adventures in the past, I really didn't know what to expect," Tuck replied good-naturedly. Then he frowned when he heard a startled cry from the fire. "Will, what are you doing?"

Scarlet had grabbed Godfrey by the front of his tunic and was pulling him to his feet. "What's 'e still doing 'ere? Shouldn't 'e be 'eading back to 'Untingdon if the earl's better now?"

Godfrey pulled away from Will and glared at him scornfully. "I have no proof that the earl is better or that his son has, in fact, recovered – even if his fever has broken." Godfrey directed his gaze at the knight lying a few feet away from him. "This man, Gisburne, hasn't improved at all."

"Really?" Will said. He crossed over to Gisburne at once and, crouching down, he stared at his enemy. He apparently liked what he saw because he broke into a huge grin. Then he rose from his haunches and threw his arms around Godfrey. "Gisburne's going to die!" he cried joyfully. Godfrey tensed and struggled to free himself from Will, but the outlaw had begun to dance him around the fire.

"Will, you don't know that," Tuck scolded. "Gisburne became sick before Robin, and his illness spread further. He may require more time to recover."

Will released Godfrey and plopped down before the fire breathlessly. "Whose side are you on, Tuck?" he demanded. "You should be 'appy 'e's going to die. 'E deserves it."

Tuck walked over to the fire and sat across from Will. "No one deserves to die," he said. "If Gisburne does die, it will be through God's will, not yours."

Will tossed another glance at Gisburne and snorted. "Well, God obviously _does_ want Gisburne to die since 'e got sick when 'e wasn't even cursed."

Tuck's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"It's the spell," Marion said with a sigh. Then she began to explain everything she had learned when she had confronted Mab. "Because Mab put a curse on 'those tainted with the murderer's blood,' Gisburne must have fallen ill for another reason."

"Unless 'e really is related to Robin," Will said. The comment was made in jest, but Tuck took it seriously all the same. He knew what the implications would be if the truth was revealed.

Tuck picked up a stick and poked the fire. "What if the spell doesn't mean what we think it means? What if instead of cursing those who shared Edgar's blood, Mab was cursing those who had been blighted by his misdeeds?"

Will frowned in confusion. "'Blighted by his misdeeds'?"

Tuck regarded his friend calmly. "Mab cursed those '_tainted_ by the murderer's blood'. While Robin and his father do share Edgar's blood, it's the shame of his actions they've got to live with."

Will leaned forward curiously. "And Gisburne? 'Ow does 'e fit in?"

"Gisburne was in Nottingham when Edgar accused his brother of treason. In fact, it was Gisburne who arrested the earl and brought him to the castle."

"And it was the king who ordered Gisburne to do it," John added. "Do you think he became sick too?"

"Well…it's certainly a possibility," Tuck said. As King John was a renowned hypochondriac, it seemed a safe enough assumption. Tuck just hoped that his friends wouldn't try to track down anyone else who may have had a connection to Edgar.

"It sounds like a lot of rubbish to me," Will grumbled.

John grinned. "The only reason you don't like the idea is because it means Gisburne could get better."

Will scowled but made no attempt to deny the accusation. Tuck glanced from Robin to Gisburne and began to breathe freely again.

  


* * * * 

  
Two days later, Robin was walking across the camp with Nasir and his father's messenger. Godfrey was returning to Huntingdon, and Nasir had agreed to escort him to the castle.

"Safe journey to you, Godfrey," Robin said. "Please give my regards to my father when you see him."

"I will do so gladly, my lord, assuming that your father is in any condition to receive them," Godfrey answered. He cast his eyes on the knight lying by the fire."

"Marion says he's only sleeping and that he should wake up any time now."

"Well, I hope the same thing can be said for you father, my lord," Godfrey said, keeping his eyes on the knight.

Robin clapped Godfrey on the back. "I hope so too, Godfrey, but if my father hasn't recovered…"

"I'll return to Sherwood at once," Godfrey said.

Robin smiled. "Look after him, Nasir," he told the Saracen.

Nasir nodded. "I will." He looked pointedly at the blankets that made up Robin's bed. "You should rest."

Robin pouted. "Yes, all right." He moved over to the fire and sat down with a dramatic sigh. Nasir raised an amused eyebrow, but said nothing further. Godfrey waved at Robin and bid him farewell. Robin watched them both leave the camp then looked around cautiously. Tuck looked up from his preparations for supper and shook his head. Robin sighed again and decided to follow Nasir's advice.

Robin and Tuck were now the only outlaws in the camp. John, Will and Much had gone hunting, and Marion had gone for a walk by the stream. Although Robin didn't want to admit it, he knew that Marion was collecting memories of Sherwood to take back to the priory.

Robin turned his gaze back to the fire and was lost in thought for some time before he realized that someone was watching him. Snapping his head around, he found himself looking into the bleary eyes of his enemy.

"Well, we were wondering when you might wake up," Robin stated cheerfully.

Gisburne stared at his enemy for a moment. Then he tried to rise. He almost managed to prop himself up on one elbow before he flopped back down in defeat.

"You've been sick," Robin said. "Close to death."

Gisburne opened his eyes cautiously. "Was I wounded?" he whispered.

"No, it was an illness."

"An illness?" Gisburne gasped. "But I was fine when I left Nottingham." He started coughing, and Tuck quickly approached with a cup of water. Kneeling down beside the knight, he lifted Gisburne's head and put the cup to his lips. Gisburne drank from it thirstily.

"Easy," Tuck said when it looked as if Gisburne might drain the entire cup. Considering how long Gisburne had been unconscious, Robin couldn't blame him for trying to quench his thirst.

"How long was I…ill?" Gisburne asked, as if reading Robin's mind. Tuck had removed the cup and the knight was lying flat on his back again.

Robin couldn't help smiling. "Nearly three days," he answered.

"Three days?" Gisburne winced. "Why didn't you just kill me?"

Robin laughed quietly. "Oh, Will wanted to kill you, but we wouldn't let him."

"Why not? Were you hoping for information?"

"No, not at the time, though I've just thought of some information you could give me," Robin said.

Gisburne made a half-hearted attempt to glare, but even he seemed to realize that it wasn't up to his usual standard. "What do you want?" he asked.

"We only want to know what happened to the money."

Gisburne passed a hand over his face wearily. "Money?"

"The money the Earl of Derby was sending to King John," Robin said, trying to sound as if they were discussing a topic that was only of mild interest to him. But Gisburne knew his enemy well enough to see through the act. He actually smiled, though it did little to improve the sick pallor of his complexion.

"Oh, _that_ money," Gisburne said. "You mean, the money you failed to steal."

Robin gritted his teeth and gave Gisburne his opportunity to gloat. He deserved it after everything he had just gone through. "Yes, _that_ money," Robin answered.

"Oh, it was sent to Nottingham on the Newark road."

Robin gaped at Gisburne. "The Newark road?"

"Yes, the Newark road." Gisburne yawned and his eyes slipped shut. Robin continued to stare at him long after he had fallen asleep. Then Tuck was standing over him, so Robin looked up at the monk instead.

"They sent it on the Newark road," Robin said.

Tuck nodded sympathetically. "Yes, I heard."

"But I had that dream. I saw Gisburne standing by a river," Robin insisted.

"Maybe your dream had nothing to do with the money," Tuck said. He patted Robin on the shoulder. "I'd best get back to my stew. It'll soon be time to put it on the fire."

Tuck was just returning to his task, when Marion entered the camp. She paused, studied the stew pot thoughtfully then sat down beside Robin. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm all right," Robin said. "Better than some people," he added, glancing at Gisburne. "He finally woke up by the way. We talked a bit, he drank some water, and then he went back to sleep."

"It sounds like he's going to recover, then." Marion shook her head sadly. "Poor Will."

Robin laughed. "Yes, poor Will," he said. Then he grew serious again when Marion reached out to brush an errant strand of hair from his brow. Robin took her hand and gazed deeply into her eyes, trying to read what lay behind them. Tuck muttered an excuse about needing to fetch water, but they didn't hear him.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Robin asked.

Marion lowered her eyes. "Now that you're almost better, I'm not needed here anymore."

Robin tightened his grip on Marion's hand. "You're _always_ needed here. I need you. We _all_ need you. Why can't you stay?"

"You know why, Robin," Marion whispered. Robin looked away and released his hold on her. He was about to rise, but Marion cupped his face with her hands and kissed him gently. "Maybe someday," she said. "Just not today."

Robin stared at her incredulously. "Someday?" he echoed.

Marion nodded and Robin pulled her into an embrace. When they parted, Robin cleared his throat to cover his emotions. "You shouldn't travel back to Halstead alone," he said.

Marion stroked Robin's cheek. "I've asked Will to take me back."

"Will?" Robin asked in surprise.

"I thought it would be best if Will left for a while," Marion said. "It will distract him from killing Gisburne…or visiting Mab."

Robin's mouth fell open. "Visiting Mab?"

Marion smiled. "He was going to ask Mab to curse Gisburne again."

  


* * * * 

  
Mab stood contentedly outside the pigpen. While most of her babies were lazing around in the mud, Cedric was eating more swill and little Rutterkin, who wasn't so little anymore, was butting his head against Ethel's huge torso. Finally, all seemed right with the world. They were going to leave her in peace at last.

Mab turned and was about to head for her hut, when she heard a loud grunt. Swirling back around, she was horrified to see Rutterkin limping around the pigpen.

"Rutterkin!" she cried. She rushed into the pen at once to examine the pig. Noticing that Rutterkin seemed to be keeping off his right hind leg, she focused her attention there. Rutterkin squealed indignantly as Mab grasped his leg. Holding back tears, Mab wondered who would be cruel enough to harm her baby. Would they never stop plaguing her?

Feeling the leg, Mab could find no signs of physical injury. The leg wasn't cut, swollen or broken. She began to inspect the hoof. She ran her fingers along the cleft of the cloven foot and froze. Squinting, she studied it more closely. Then she burst into laughter.

"Silly little pig!" she said. "You've got a pebble lodged in your hoof!"


End file.
